


Every Night but One

by PawPunk



Series: Everybody Needs Good Neighbors [2]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Borderline Personality Disorder, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Knives, Mental Health Issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Moving In Together, Paranoia, Self-Esteem Issues, autistic!stressmonster, borderline!bdubs, but its not as relevant to the plot, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29539449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawPunk/pseuds/PawPunk
Summary: They say the man who sleeps with a knife under his pillow is a fool every night but one, but Bdubs sure feels like a fool right now.Takes place directly after Lend Me Some Sugar, Neighbor.
Relationships: stressdubs, stressmonster 101/ bdoubleo100
Series: Everybody Needs Good Neighbors [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170194
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Every Night but One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ingoma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingoma/gifts).



> Trigger warnings: knives (ovbs) although nobody gets hurt, borderline!bdubs (including paranoid thoughts and nearly splitting or having an intense mood swing on stress), mentions of murder, allusions to sex, internalized ableism

Really, Bdubs had started moving in months ago. He’d left clothes and jackets at Stress’s house, and came back to find them washed and folded (even though he told her again and again she didn’t need to). He cooked dinner in her kitchen more often than his own, and whenever he needed time to think without being interrupted by his three rowdy roommates he knocked on her door. Hell, he’d even slept in her bed before, after… certain activities. But he’d naturally fallen asleep rather quickly, and he’d always come home to jokes and back slaps from Doc, Beef, and Etho. Now, as he carried the last of his belongings up to Stress’s attic bedroom, he realized that he wouldn’t go home after he woke up, because this was his home now. 

Bdubs was less excited than he should be. Not about moving in with his girlfriend—that was a dream come true—but about the whole sleeping situation. It hadn’t been a problem before, because before he’d only slept over when they were, well, sleeping together. That didn’t leave a lot of time for him to be alone with his thoughts. But there was no way they would sleep together every night, except literally, and that was where the problems started.

Bdubs closed the wardrobe door, taking his very last possession to be moved in out of the box. His knife. His trusty knife, rather, as opposed to the many other knives he owned. He kept it sharp and polished, the actions calming him with both the repetitive motions and the knowledge that if someone broke into his house, he’d be ready to take them on. It was a thing of beauty—six inches long, half carbon steel blade, half wooden hilt, and absolutely not the kind of thing he wanted Stress to see him hide under his pillow every night like a complete lunatic. He sighed, and tucked the knife into the back of his—their—wardrobe. It would be safe there. 

_ But will you be safe?  _ asked a voice in the back of Bdubs’ head. He tried to shut it up. Why would anyone scale the wall of their house, break through the window, and murder them both before Bdubs had time to get his inaccessible knife out of its hiding place and defend them? Really, what were the chances that they would be killed in their sleep, especially without the safety of Bdubs’ roommates close at hand? What were the chances???

“Luv? What are you doing?” Stress said behind him. Bdubs jumped what felt like a foot in the air, turning around and slamming the wardrobe door. 

“Oh, hey babe!” he said in what he desperately hoped was a casual tone. “I, uh, just finished putting my stuff away.”

Stress raised her eyebrows, her mouth opening slightly. “Hi,” she said. “Are you alright, luv?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally fine,” Bdubs forced out. Was the wardrobe door closed? He pressed on it to make sure. Yep, it was. Okay. 

Stress’s brows knitted, and she strode towards him. “Are you sure?” she asked. “What’s in the wardrobe?”

_ Shit. _ “Nothing!” Bdubs said, then realized that was a terrible answer. “I mean, I was just putting away some clothes!”

“I thought you finished that hours ago,” Stress said softly, and oh lord, she was worried about him. She gently grabbed his hand, placing her smaller hand in his palm. Callouses, chipped glittery nail polish, tiny burn scars and nicks on her fingers. He didn’t want her to get hurt. He wanted to be able to protect her if something bad happened, but at the same time he didn’t want to scare her by being a fucking weirdo.

“Bdubs,” Stress said firmly, staring him dead in the eye. “I know something is wrong. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Bdubs forced himself to laugh. “So, it’s kind of funny,” he said, even though it wasn’t. “I, um, I sleep with a knife. Or, I used to! But not anymore, that’s why I put it in the wardrobe. Because I’m not going to sleep with it. Anymore.” 

Bdubs swallowed. He was trying to be reassuring, but every word he spoke just made the creases in Stress’s brow grow deeper. She opened her mouth and Bdubs shrunk back, she was going to ask what was wrong with him, she was going to tell him to sleep on the couch, she was going to-

“Why not anymore?” Stress asked.

“What do you mean?” Bdubs asked flatly.

“Why aren’t you going to sleep with a knife?” Stress asked. “And, well, why did you before?”

“It made me feel safe,” Bdubs admitted, each word squeezing painfully out of his chest. Stress was silent, and Bdubs stared at the floor. Hopefully, she wouldn’t want him to explain anything more.

Suddenly Stress’s hands cupped Bdubs’ face. He squeezed his eyes shut as she lifted his face to look at her, blinking them open not to disgust or fear but… concern. And pity. “Bdubs,” she said softly. “If the knife makes you feel safe, you can keep it.”

“I can?” Bdubs asked blankly. 

“Yes,” Stress said, chuckling a little. She coughed, then added “May I see the knife?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Bdubs said, still eyeing her suspiciously for any sign of disgust. He opened the wardrobe and pulled out the knife, holding it out on his palms so she knew he wouldn’t cut her. The electric light glinted off the curved blade. 

Stress didn’t even flinch. “Can I hold it?” she asked, her mascara lined eyes shining.

“Sure,” Bdubs said. She plucked the blade from his hands, turning it over in the light before bringing her finger up to the sharp point. Bdubs’ entire body tensed. “Careful.”

“Oh, right,” Stress giggled, handing it back. “Can I suggest something, though?”

“Sure,” Bdubs said lightly. That wave of dread returned at the question, but it wasn’t so overwhelming as before. It wasn’t enough to knock him over.

“What if you kept the knife on the nightstand, instead of under your pillow?” Stress said. “That way, you could still find it quickly, but you couldn’t cut yourself as easily.”

“Oh,” Bdubs said. “That does make more sense, doesn’t it?” He couldn’t help but smile a little with relief. Relief that Stress didn’t hate him, yes, but also that he’d still have defense if a serial killer climbed through their window in the middle of the night. He trotted back to the bed—his side of the bed!—and knelt down, placing his trusty knife on the bottom shelf of the nightstand, where he could grab it in a second if anything happened. The dark blade with its carved wooden hilt looked ridiculous against the pastel pink of the nightstand, but then again, so was his relationship with Stress. It was ridiculous that he would end up dating such a sweet angel, and yet she didn’t look down on him or think he was crazy. Even though he probably was.

“Alright!” he said, pushing those thoughts back as he stood up. “Do you want me to make dinner tonight?”

“I thought we could go out. You know, to celebrate,” Stress suggested. “It is a pretty special occasion, innit?”

“Oh, right,” Bdubs chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. Stress giggled, and Bdubs couldn’t resist pulling her close. “I suppose it isn’t every day you move in with your wonderful—“ he kissed her—“beautiful—“ he kissed her again—“smart, lovable, interesting—“

“Stop it, that tickles!” Stress squealed, pushing his face away before he could land any more kisses on her face. “You nerd.”

“You’re one to talk!” Bdubs countered. “Come on, want to go to that pizza place with the outdoor seating so you can tell me the scientific name of, like, every flower in their garden?”

Stress crossed her arms and huffed in mock annoyance. “Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m gonna!” she declared.

Bdubs squeezed her shoulder. “Looking forward to it,” he said genuinely, and Stress’s eyes sparkled. He didn’t even know eyes could do that until he met Stress. Bdubs followed her down the stairs, his knife collection stashed upstairs, forgotten. He didn’t need them to feel safe right now.


End file.
